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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29035560">The Gambler</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_Suugar/pseuds/Princess_Suugar'>Princess_Suugar</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dream Smp, Dream is emotionally constipated, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, I dont know how to tag, I was just really bored, Im adding more chapters, M/M, Mutual Pining, Perspective shifts sometimes I think, Pining, Rating is subject to change, also cause it's super short, but yknow, cursing, it sounds so sus but its not, mentions of gambling?, no beta we die like george in manhunt, that might be obvious</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:47:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,671</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29035560</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_Suugar/pseuds/Princess_Suugar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Dreeeeaaaaam,” George whined, “please just one more round! I’ll wager anything, please I just want my stuff back.” </p><p>“Anything?”</p><p>“Anything.” </p><p>George and Dream gamble on the smp, and Dream wants something George can't give him in a video game.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>78</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I got a new clicky-clacky keyboard and wanted to write something with it. I might write more chapters but, for now, this is it. I hope you enjoy :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“George you are such a-” Dream couldn’t even finish his sentence he was laughing so hard. All that came out was whistle-y wheeze that did not resemble the word “idiot” like he intended it to. To say that George was laughing just as hard would be an understatement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream and George were gambling… again. And again. And again. Raising the stakes until they were broke. Playing chicken to see who WOULDN’T choose the shield. Finally, after about the sixth round, George was out of anything that Dream would be interested in. Anything in game, at least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dreeeeaaaaam,” George whined, “please just one more round! I’ll wager anything, please I just want my stuff back.” Dream wasn’t looking at George’s face on his other monitor that had the brit’s stream open, but he could hear the pout and puppy dog eyes in his voice. Dream thought about dismissing him, but stopped and considered George’s words for a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything?” Dream said into the mic with all the </span>
  <em>
    <span>sus</span>
  </em>
  <span> energy he could manage. He wanted to see what would go through his friend’s mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence that accompanied the question had Dream checking the stream to see George's eyebrow twitch in confusion and apprehension. He essentially had the same face as when Dream told him he looked nice in the suit. George regained composure, though, trusting Dream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a challenge in the way he said it, whether George knew what he was getting himself into or not, he wasn’t about to back out after begging for a deal. Dream knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his curiosity at bay and decided to have a bit of fun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay I’ll send you a proposition in discord,” Dream whispered into the mic. Honestly, his idea was not as sinister as he was making it seem, but he always found it fun to rile George up. And come on, George made it far too easy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wha- Dream why can’t you just say it. You’re such an id-” George stopped as the discord notification sounded. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“If I win, you come to Florida next month.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if you win, you get back all the stuff that you lost today.” Dream said this part out loud. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The chat was going batshit crazy. Everyone wanted to know what Dream wanted that was so “scandalous,” as many of them put it, that he couldn’t say it on stream. Dream wasn’t stupid, he knew what he sounded like he was implying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sapnap and Dream had been trying to get George to come to Florida for months, basically since they decided to permanently move in together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has to hold back a laugh when he looks over and sees George read it and roll his eyes. It would be a convincing act of nonchalonce if his cheeks weren’t lightly covered in a pretty red, which only gave more credence to the chat’s gutter occupied minds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite George’s hesitance, Dream can tell he is thinking it over. He also looks like he wants to put chat in its place and tell them what the message says. Dream is enjoying the bit, though, and hopes George keeps it up.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re on.” There is skepticism in George’s voice and Dream has to keep from verbally shouting in excitement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And thus began the most tense and high stakes game of minecraft gambling the internet had ever seen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George was nervous, he hid it well, but it was palpable in his voice when he told Dream to go first. Dream didn’t have anything real to lose, but if anyone could see him they would see that he was slightly shaking with anticipation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was moments like these that he made him glad to be a faceless streamer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I choose…” Dream took a quick look inside the dispenser, “leather.” He didn’t want to press the button, though. He kept telling himself ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I should choose something else.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ Dream wanted to win, but he had to accept that this was just luck. His overthinking with this sort of thing was usually his downfall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pressed the button. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The diamond came out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream could see George’s jaw clenched with nerves. He put the diamond back into the dispenser. Chat was still going buck fucking wild. Dream felt like he was in a stadium full to the brim with cheering audience members, but all he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears. This was supposed to be a joke, why was he so fucking anxious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minecraft should not be this tense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George straightened his shoulders in, what looked like, false bravado. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Obsidian.” And without hesitation, George pressed the button. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shield. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s shoulders relaxed momentarily. Dream realized he was studying him without meaning to, and turned back to his own game. The round went a bit quicker after the first two presses, but the tension only grew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream was next. He almost wanted to fail just so he could relax, but that’s not how the RNG worked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jukebox.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Obsidian.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then George, taut with stress again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jukebox.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream’s eyes went wide at that. It felt risky, even if it wasn’t technically any more statistically likely to show up. It was another game of chicken, and Dream was not gonna lay down and look like a coward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George pressed the button. The only sign of regretting his decision was a small scrunch in his nose and his eyes squinting like at the last second he thought, “This was a dumb idea.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A dirt block popped out with a small pixelated puff of smoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream decided right then and there that George’s face was worth the anxiety. A laugh bubbled out of the brunette’s chest and a relieved (and a little arrogant, let’s not lie) smile spread across his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s your turn Dreeaam.” There was the lilt in George’s voice that was meant to be annoying and teasing, but Dream couldn’t help but react fondly. He pretended to yawn as if he wasn’t popping his knuckles and sitting up straight like this is a skill based game. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah. I’m going. I ALSO choose jukebox.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George smiled. Dream knew that he fell for the bait. Hook, line, and sinker. He didn’t care, though. Dream would do anything to get George to smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream pressed the button.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out came the shield, and with its arrival, George’s smile dropped. His head fell back and he groaned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream could see his adam's-apple bob as he dismayed at the thought of being next. There was a bit of stubble left over from whenever he must have last shaved. His jawline was sharper from this angle, like it could cut Dream if he dared to touch it. All the soft lines that usually made his best friend seem like a cute teddy bear type of person were gone and replaced with something Dream couldn’t put his finger on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt his cheeks getting red and was once again glad he didn’t operate with a face cam. He just knew chat would never let him live down whatever he’s feeling right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What...was he feeling? Dream was feeling decidedly “warm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could unpack what the fuck “warm” meant, George declared his next object. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jukebox”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The game continues. George presses the button. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ender pearl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream is calmer now. He has nothing to lose. He keeps telling himself that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(He doesn’t necessarily believe it, though.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jukebox”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream presses the button. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the same click sound, puff of smoke, and quick exit as the last five items, a jukebox in all its glory shoots out of the dispenser. Its routine sounds and actions, however, are accompanied by a loud yell from George.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“LET’S GOOOOOOOOO!!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George is beaming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Dream, even as he hands over everything he won that day, can’t say it was a loss. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>George and Dream play again. What could go wrong?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There they were, back on the smp, right in front of the dispenser, playing what was essentially a minecraft casino simulator. It had been about a week since he almost got George to come to Florida, and he still gets replies to every single one of his tweets, main twitter or not, asking what he sent in that discord message. He liked the mystery of it all and kept it to himself. </p>
<p>“Or maybe you want George, and the thought of him in your space, all to yourself,” a small and frankly annoying voice in his head whispered. A voice he was ignoring because he didn’t feel like dealing with those thoughts. Yet. </p>
<p>Everything on today’s seemed exactly the same as last time. George was streaming, they were the only ones in a call, and chat was egging on every new and improved bet. The lopsided exchange of virtual items was almost sad in it’s imbalance. </p>
<p>Except this time, Dream was the one losing. </p>
<p>It was his own fault, really. He overthinks the random and unforgiving system. Everytime he thinks he has somehow “outsmarted” the RNG, Dream ends up losing another precious item. He couldn’t stop, though, he wanted to win at least once today.</p>
<p>Dream was nothing if not stubborn and competitive. </p>
<p>“Tell me something you want and I’ll put it up.” Dream said with a smile in his voice. He’d been playing up the annoyed and frustrated tones for the bit, but it was hard to keep it up with George’s guffaws in his headset when he chose the wrong item for the ninth time in a row. “This is my lucky round, I just know it!” </p>
<p>“Dream,” George is grinning as if he is genuinely winning thousands of dollars in Las Vegas as he speaks, “you have literally given me almost everything you own. What could I possibly want?”</p>
<p>‘He has a point.’ a traitorous part of Dream’s brain says. He can’t think of anything else to give George that wouldn’t impact the canon lore of the roleplay in a way that the writers wouldn’t approve of. Dream looks at George’s chat for inspiration, hoping someone will come up with something reasonable. </p>
<p>For the most part, chat is spamming things like “give up,” “STOP YOU’LL LOSE EVERYTHING!” and other discouragements. A quick glance at George’s facecam shows that the brunet is doing the same thing. He turns back to chat, not wanting to be stuck in a silent stalemate because he couldn’t stop ogling his best friend, and that is when he sees it. A suggestion amongst the chaos that makes Dream’s heart stop. He thinks George sees it too in that moment because his mouth curls up slightly in a devious way. </p>
<p>The small smile glues itself to George’s face. It is a smile that Dream recognizes from editing countless videos of the two of them, and it is always followed by Dream’s near demise. </p>
<p>He doubts this will be any different. </p>
<p>“I know what I want.” George says closely into the microphone. Dream can tell he dropped his voice to sound more ominous, and the way it reverberates in his head then settles in his stomach makes Dream want to run. </p>
<p>With the smile still firmly on his face, George leans back in his chair. </p>
<p>“I don’t know, Chat.” George says with a smug undertone. “Should I say it outloud or make it a secret like Dream did last time?” Dream couldn’t remember how to breathe. Is this how George felt when he sprung the Florida wager on him? </p>
<p>Chat was a blur of overwhelming unanimity. The people demanded they be let in on the bet. George didn’t seem to care, though, he just scrunched his nose, shook his head and shrugged. </p>
<p>“Sorry, Chat. It’s just more fun when you don’t know the stakes.”</p>
<p>Dream quietly let go of the breath he was holding. That was at least a small mercy. He heard the signature sound of George typing the message. He almost didn’t want to look when he heard the familiar ping. </p>
<p>He had to, though. With hesitation, Dream opened the message, hoping he was wrong but knowing what was coming. They had both seen the poorly spelt comment run through chat. </p>
<p><b> <em>Gogeee8: </em> </b> <em> u shld show Geroge ur face &lt;3 </em></p>
<p>It had passed almost instantly, as if it was never there, but Dream saw it. It was joked about that George had never seen his face, but it wasn’t really a joke at all. Dream wasn’t comfortable on any kind of camera. </p>
<p>George and him would snapchat, but it was only ever to show off quick pictures of Patches or anything else that was in either of their surroundings that they didn’t feel like keeping in their camera roll. Dream honestly just never knew what to do with his face or hands, so he never sent anything in real time. </p>
<p>George had seen it too. Right there, in their messages, was the sentence he was dreading. (‘And hoping for?’ the annoying voice whispered again, this time with a vengeance that was harder to ignore.)</p>
<p>
  <em> “I wanna see you. Your face. No tricks.” </em>
</p>
<p>In the presence of a daunting idea, Dream did what he does best. He rose to the challenge. </p>
<p>“You’re on.” Dream said with confidence that made George’s eyebrows raise. “Like I said, this is my round.” He felt the fake-it-til-you-make-it energy swirling inside of him like some sort of anime power up. He laughed. “I want all my stuff back, though. Just like I offered you.”</p>
<p>“This is so not the same! What you wanted was way more…”George struggled with his words. He was flustered and seemed flabbergasted that Dream thought the requests were on the same level and price range. “It was just <em> more </em>, okay? I hardly think that what I have asked is worth ALL of your stuff.”</p>
<p>Chat was going mad. If they were all physically manifested into a single person, they would be frothing at the mouth and ready to attack. It just added to Dream’s amusement. Teasing Chat was almost enough fun to make him forget about the possibility of him losing this bet. </p>
<p>“I want all my stuff or you can come up with another thing for me to bet.” Dream’s tone showed he would not be swayed, and it was obvious from the way George groaned and scrubbed his face with his hands that he knew this as well. </p>
<p>“Fine, but if I win. No, <em> when </em> I win, I also want to add this….” Dream could hear a typing noise coming from George’s side, “to make the whole thing more fair.” Dream looked at their messages and saw that George asked for videos AND pictures of him. The stone that had been in the bottom of Dream’s stomach since he saw the suggestion in chat suddenly felt heavier. Despite this, he cleared his throat, and let false confidence embed itself into his words. </p>
<p>“Oh, come on.” He sighed, “Fine, okay? Can we just get to the part where I win?” George scoffed at this.</p>
<p>“If you’re so confident, then go first.” George’s voice wavered a bit, though, like Dream’s assured attitude was slightly off-putting. Good, Dream thought, he wasn’t the only one unsure of how this would play out. </p>
<p>Dream moved his avatar to the dispenser. He took a big breath. Exhaled. Why was he so nervous? It was just his face, he sees it all the time in the mirror. </p>
<p>He inhaled. </p>
<p>Fuck it. </p>
<p>“Shield.”</p>
<p>Dream pressed the button.</p>
<p>The game had no idea of the context. It had no sentience to ponder what the right choice was here. It was up to fate and the universe and whatever else works in mysterious ways. And, as if it meant nothing, as if it was any other round with lower stakes, a puff of smoke came out of the dispenser. There was an eleven percent chance of it being the one thing that Dream didn’t want it to be. </p>
<p>If there is one thing everyone knows about Dream, though, it’s that he tends to defy all odds. </p>
<p>A shield pops anticlimactically out of the dispenser. </p>
<p>“Fuck.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know that George has definitely seen Dream's face, but this is just a fun concept. </p>
<p>Also I will take this down immediately if either of them express discomfort with fanfics. This isn't my baby or anything, I am just bored.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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